


Be My Valentine

by pat_t



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 19:03:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pat_t/pseuds/pat_t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The failure of diamonds and chocolates. So what's left?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be My Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> Adult content for male/male slash, language, violence, written for Valentine's Day. This was actually prompted by a picture I spotted on a website of Duncan handing Methos a rose.

Duncan MacLeod pulled on his sweater, mentally reviewing his day's schedule as he slid on the soft material. He had risen early, his entire day filled with busy errands before a seven pm faculty meeting that night at the university. He quietly eased on his shoes and coat, careful not to disturb his sleeping lover. Dr. Judith Gray was a brilliant and beautiful oncologist, recently relocated from Seattle to open the new Seacouver Bone Marrow Transplant Unit. She was young, bright and caring, and seemed to love one Duncan MacLeod, whom she had met six months earlier at a hospital fund raiser. And Duncan cared for her very much. 'Cared for...' -- such a handy term -- particularly useful when the word 'love' felt just out of reach.

He left the loft, easing down the stairs instead of the noisy, clanking lift. Sliding into the seat of the thunderbird, he started breathing deeply, slowly releasing the heaviness in his chest, wishing the sadness could ebb away as easily as the tightness in his muscles with the meditative state.

If only he hadn't loved Tessa with his whole heart, known how it felt to give and receive so completely -- known what the joy was *supposed* to feel like. If only....

But he did know, which was how he knew what he felt for Judith was not love. Yes, he cared. He loved being with her. She was kind and funny and sexy. But instead of the joy he remembered having with Tessa, he only felt an ache deep inside where the empty place in his heart remained dark and barren.

~~~~~~

Methos scrubbed at his skin abrasively, just barely managing to contain his anger under the hot spray of the shower. This morning's argument had been the worst ever. God, what had he ever seen in that woman?

He stepped out of the tub, his muscles tense and hard, while his mind raced with accusations and self recriminations. Brushing the towel over his wet hair, he sat down on the closed toilet lid, allowing his anger to deflate while the scene flashed through his mind, replaying with perfect clarity.

"What do you mean, you have lunch plans with Duncan MacLeod today?" she had shrieked. 

She had already been dressed when he had risen, her straight blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail. Vaguely, he remembered how beautiful she had once been, her eyes a deep blue, her smile soft and playful. But no more. Now her mouth was angry and hard, twisting her entire face into an ugly caricature.

"I'm sorry, Carrie. Mac and I had made plans for today weeks ago. How was I supposed to know you'd take off work and make plans as well? It's not like you told me, is it?"

Truthfully, they never talked at all anymore. Of course, he could tell her the truth, that he and Mac and planned on meeting for lunch and then shopping for a Valentine's gift for their respective significant others. Teach her right if he did and ruined the surprise -- wouldn't it? But, before he could open his mouth -- to lie -- to tell the truth -- he wasn't sure, she was yelling obscenities at him, her voice gaining strength with each word.

"What's so special about MacLeod anyway? Lord, you can hardly go piss without him. I'm supposed to be more important than your friends, Adam. Me. Not some piece of shit antique dealer that thinks he's better than everyone else. God, you're so pathetic." 

She had stormed off then, thankfully, before he had given in to an age old instinct to grab her by the throat and strangle the life out of her.

She hadn't always been like that, of course. The change had been so gradual, it had fairly snuck up on him, until it was there --- right in front of him, large as life in all its blatant honesty. Now he barely recognized the woman she had become. It wasn't as if he hadn't tried to love her. But something had always been lacking in their relationship - something just out of reach for them. The worst part was that he couldn't seem to make himself care, and he knew he was more enraged by her attack on Mac than her words about his own apparent worth.

He certainly didn't have to wonder what that meant. MacLeod had been an important part of his life for years. 'Hell, admit it,' he told himself. 'You love him. You always have.'

~~~~~~

Mac stepped out of his car, stabilizing his footing carefully on the icy pavement. The restaurant was crowded with the late afternoon rush already in full swing. Pausing at the door, he felt his friend's buzz wash over him and smiled. Methos was already there. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkened interior, letting the strong wave of his friend's presence guide him to the table at the far southwest corner.

"You look like hell," he observed, settling his tall frame into his seat.

"Yeah, thanks," Methos replied dryly, a tightening in his throat reminding him how unhappy he really was.

"I'm sorry," Duncan said gently. "I didn't mean to...." he offered carefully.

"No, no it's okay, Mac," Methos interrupted, waving the offered comment away casually with his hand. He attempted a smile, which he knew failed miserably. "It's just..." he hesitated, " another fight." He sighed finally, taking a sip of water to clear the sour taste from his mouth.

"I figured. I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, Mac. Not your fault."

"It's getting bad, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is. I should leave, I guess. It's just with Joe getting older and his health failing, you know. I hate to leave him right now." He looked up from the menu, catching a glimmer of sadness flicker across Mac's face. Well, Mac cared for Joe too, after all. Of course, the mention of his close friend's failing health and future mortality would affect him. And Mac was in love with a beautiful woman. *He* would hardly notice if Methos left town. Probably wouldn't even miss him, he mused self indulgently.

Across the table, Mac silently gulped, the thought of his friend disappearing from his life causing his chest to constrict painfully.

~~~~~~

Mac eyed the jewelry case shrewdly, speculating on a bracelet for Judith's Valentine's gift. He had to be careful. He wanted the gift to be appropriate. It had to be in good taste, of course. And something she would like. But not too elaborate or personal, he reflected. He didn't want her reading too much into the gift, after all. He didn't want it to say 'I love you'.

"What do you think?" he asked his companion, his lightly furred index finger tapping on the glass counter.

Methos looked at the one carat diamond tennis bracelet, and whistled softly under his breath. "Nice, she'll love it," he reflected. 'Of course, why wouldn't she?' he thought to himself. She had the Highlander's love. Why wouldn't she have anything else she wanted?

"What about you? Know what you're going to buy Carrie yet?"

Methos shook his head and sighed softly. "No. And it probably doesn't matter anyway. The most expensive bauble in the world isn't going to fix us."

They ended up at the candy isle of a neighborhood specialty store, gazing at the bright foil covered boxes. "Chocolates are always a good choice," Mac agreed, watching his friend pick up one box after another to judge its contents.

"Know anything about Valentine's Day, MacLeod? It's history?" Methos finally asked, filling up the silence with deceptively easy banter.

"Um, I know some of the theories. There was a priest in the Roman Empire who helped persecute Christians during the reign of Claudius II. I think he was beheaded. Then there was the theory about a Catholic bishop who was beheaded, during the same reign."

"Yes, I've heard those too," Methos agreed as they left the candy isle, a large heart-shaped box of chocolates secured under his arm. "Nasty habit, that. You can be damned sure our kind wasn't involved."

"Wasn't there someone who secretly married couples when marriage was forbidden, or suffered in Africa, or wrote letters to his jailer's daughter? He was probably beheaded too," Mac stated, a smile teasing his lips. He could see the mischief playing across Methos' face and prepared for the inevitable lecture. At least Methos' mood seemed to be lifting. It was the first time that day he had seen him smile.

"Here," Methos motioned towards a display of fresh roses. Mac followed, not surprised when his friend started motioning expressively with his hands as he spoke. "Actually, the roots of St. Valentine's Day lie in the ancient Roman festival of Lupercalia, which was celebrated on February 15. For 800 years the Romans had dedicated this day to the god Lupercus. On Lupercalia, a young man would draw the name of a young woman in a lottery and would then keep her as a sexual companion for the year. Pope Gelasius I was, understandably, less than thrilled with this custom. So, he changed the lottery to have both men and women draw the names of saints whom they would then emulate for the year. Instead of Lupercus, the patron of the feast became Valentine. For Roman men, the day continued to be an occasion to seek the affections of women, and it became a tradition to give out handwritten messages of admiration that included Valentine's name."

"That's very interesting, Adam. But, are you going to buy anything?" Mac asked after they had looked at every rose the specialty store had to offer. He saw Methos gaze longingly at a single white rose, its petals outlined in soft pink.

"She'd love it," he murmured softly.

"I doubt it, Mac." Methos shook himself out of his reverie and turned, leaving the dainty rose in its vase to wilt. He silently mused on the irony as he turned to leave.

Mac sighed, and followed his friend out of the store, his own mood darkening proportionately.

~~~~~~

Mac stepped into the loft expecting to smell the fragrant beginnings of dinner. Instead, the air was aroma free, and he looked, but was not surprised to see, the oven completely devoid of activity. He shrugged off his coat, carefully hanging it on the rack by the lift before advancing into the main room.

"Jud--". The word died on his tongue, and he froze, at the sight of the open suitcase on his bed.

Judith came out of the bathroom, her personal toiletries packed in a small, dainty case. She paused, stilling her own movements when she saw Duncan staring at her suitcase.

"Duncan, you're home early," she said softly, her breath catching and holding at the end.

"You were going to leave without telling me," he stated simply.

"No, I was going to wait...it's just, I thought I would be ready to go."

"It's all right. I can give you time. I - I understand." He turned to leave.

"No, wait." She rushed forward to stop his departure, and placed her hand on his shoulder tenderly.

"Please, I just want you to know that I do care for you, Duncan. But it's not enough. We don't love one another and I've been offered a partnership in LA. And, I....it's...."

Mac chuckled deep in his chest and turned, forcing a smile to his face. "It's all right, Judith. I really do understand. Take as long as you like."

"Thank you," she said sincerely, watching silently as he once again turned to leave.

He grabbed his coat and lifted the gate, then paused and turned to face her sadly.

"Here," he pulled a long elegant box from his pocket. "It's for your Valentine's...."

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I can't ..."

He nodded, placing the box back in his pocket. "Take as long as you need," he repeated and turned, this time walking determinedly out the door.

~~~~~~

Methos slugged back another beer, bitterly replaying the latest argument in his mind. God, what a bloody disaster.

"Candy!" she had shrieked angrily. "This is what I get? A two dollar box of chocolate. I bet 'MacLeod' bought jewelry for his precious doctor."

There had been so much venom in her voice -- the way she said his name -- 'MacLeod'. He shivered and reached for the fresh beer that had been silently placed in front of him only seconds earlier. Had she yelled that before or after she had thrown the box at him and spilled the candy across the carpet? 'Ah, well, hardly matters, does it?' he reflected silently.

Joe Dawson watched his friend with concern. He knew Methos had been living in a domestic hell for awhile. He also knew that the reason Methos gave for staying was Joe's own failing health, even though he suspected there were far more personal reasons.

"Problems at home, buddy?" he ventured to ask.

"You could say that," Methos sneered. Joe raised an inquiring eyebrow, but remained silent. He saw his friend shrug, followed by a tired apology. "Sorry, Joe. Yeah, problems. She left me."

"O-kay," Joe eased out slowly, studying his friend a moment longer. "Look, Adam." He decided in a heartbeat of a moment to put it out in the open. "I know you don't love her and you don't give a damn if she stays or not. And you know I know that's not what has your shorts in a twist."

"I do?" the five thousand year old asked innocently.

"Yeah, you do," came the gruff reply. "It's Mac's love you're mourning. Not Carrie's. Since he fell for Judith, you don't think you have a chance in hell of getting him to see you as more than a friend."

"What do you know about it, Dawson?" Methos demanded angrily before slamming his bottled beer down on the counter hard.

"Enough," Joe answered, picking up a rag to remove the sloshed beer from his counter. "Buddy, you're not fooling me. I've got eyes. I can see. You forget that I know the two of you pretty damn well. After all, I haven't watched you both all these years for nothing." Joe eyed his friend and suppressed a smile. In the mood Methos was in, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to tell him he had been a little *too* talkative some of the nights he had come in to drown his sorrows.

"Just what do you think you know, Watcher?" came the snide rejoinder.

Joe shrugged and continued to swipe at the spilled beer. "I know you love Mac and have for years. But you don't know what to do about it, do you? I know you thought you could get over him by getting involved with Carrie, but it didn't work, did it? Mac and I have both seen how miserable you've been."

"Maybe," Methos replied tiredly.

"Maybe," Joe snorted. "You'd give up the next five thousand years of your life if he loved you back."

"Yeah, well it's not going to happen, so forget it." Methos looked down and scrubbed at the grained wood of the counter top with a slide of his fingers.

"How do you know, Methos?" Joe hissed under his breath. He knew he had hit home when a pair of sorrowful green-brown eyes lifted to search his face.

"What do you mean? He'd never...."

"Yeah, well maybe he thinks you'd never, huh? Ever think of that? Have you ever given him a chance? Or are you so sure you know everything about everyone that you already made that decision for him?"

Methos bit his lip, and looked down at his hands. Had he?

~~~~~~

Mac drove around, easing over the iced roads carefully. He felt the bracelet box inside his pocket, and fingered it, surprised that he wasn't more unhappy at the evening's outcome. He was also surprised to find that his thoughts weren't possessively on the woman leaving him. Instead, they were on his male friend. The ache he felt inside his chest was for the unhappiness he had seen in the face of his most precious companion. Then, as he drove along, letting his mind flow free, that thought started an avalanche of memories.

Memories of gold-green eyes, a funny deep laugh when Methos was truly happy. His funny stories, his expressive mannerisms. Mac smiled, feeling something lift inside himself. And then there was an emotion he recognized, one he thought lost to him forever -- joy -- and suddenly it was all clear to him.

~~~~~~

Methos slammed the taxi door shut, and wrapped his thick coat more securely around his lean frame as the freezing wind whipped around him. He looked up at the specialty shop's windows, thankful it was still open. 'Well, you're finally going to do this, are you?' he asked himself. He took a moment to center -- to gain courage -- and entered the shop.

~~~~~~

Mac paid for the single rose, waiting as it was placed carefully into the long cylinder box. "Thank-you," he murmured to the robust woman behind the counter.

"She'll love it," the saleslady offered cheerfully.

"Yeah, I hope so," he replied and turned to leave. Getting into the thunderbird, he surveyed the box lying in the seat beside him. 'What if this was a mistake?' he mused. He could be risking one of the most important friendships in his life. Fortunately, before he could put himself into a brood, his cell phone chirped him back. "MacLeod," he answered into the black plastic.

"Mac, it's Methos. I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but I need to see you."

"Sure, I can be at your place in about fifteen minutes."

"No, I'm a...we broke up, Mac. I'm at the Marriott. Room 1115."

"Sure, okay. I'll be there shortly." He started to hang up, then paused briefly to reconsider. "Methos, Judith broke up with me tonight too."

"I see," came back the reply before a dial tone told him they were disconnected. Did Methos seem happy when he said that? Or was he just imagining what he wanted to hear in his friend's voice?

Twenty minutes later found himself outside Methos' room, feeling the comforting buzz on the other side of the door. He waited, box discarded, clutching the rose behind his back. He gulped anxiously as the door opened, praying to all the Gods that he wasn't making a huge mistake.

Methos opened the door slowly, the white and pink rose clutched securely behind his back. What if he was making a mistake? What if Mac had never thought of him that way? Oh God.

They stared into each other's eyes, searching for affirmation, for acceptance. "Methos," --- umpph --- Mac cleared his throat.

'Umpph' -- Methos mimicked the gesture, his own throat suddenly tight.

Mac brought his arm around, barely able to breathe, not noticing that Methos was making the same movement until they were both standing in the doorway, a white and pink laced rose held in each of their hands.

"Duncan, I...." Methos froze, staring at the identical rose in his friend's hand. "For me?" He smiled at the look of astonishment he saw in the expressive brown eyes of his friend.

"Yeah. Me?" Mac gestured with his rose at its sister flower in his friend's grasp.

"Yeah." Methos smiled widely. "Happy Valentine's Day."

Methos began to laugh as he was picked up brusquely under his arms and scooted back into the room. He heard the door slam shut behind them as a hot mouth took his own, the sweet slide of a tongue taking possession. His senses were overwhelmed by the taste, the smell, the feel of the man. The hard planes of his chest, the soft furring across his pecs. Methos kissed and stroked, tasted and touched, shivering as the silky hardness of Mac's erection slid across his hip. The pulsing need between his legs was causing a deep wanting ache inside him, until he was naked and gasping, the sweet slide of Duncan's mouth and tight grip of his hand stroking him into a powerful climax.

His chest heaving, he lifted his legs, offering his most intimate place, feeling the need to give, to bond and be complete deep inside himself.

Duncan slipped his hard length inside and Methos groaned, feeling the possessive glide of the throbbing organ as it took -- and he gave - willingly and lovingly, his heart bursting with joy. He reveled in the feel of Duncan's weight, pinning him against his hard, sweaty chest, the stroking against his gland sending him into waves of ecstasy. And then they were both crying out, their hot breaths mingling in a single exclamation as they came, hot and wet and hard.

It wasn't until they were lying together later, sleepy and sated, their two roses entwined in a vase by the bed, that Methos dared to speak. "Mac, you knew?"

"Knew what, Methos?" the sleepy voice murmured against his chest.

"That I loved you?"

Mac pulled away slightly, studying his lover's face. "I think so, somehow I did know. But, that's not why I'm here."

"It's not?" A frown creased Methos' brow.

"No, it's not," Mac answered softly, caressing the frown away with his fingertips. "It's because I realized how much I love you. You complete me, Methos. You bring joy into my heart and my soul. I don't want you to just be my Valentine, Methos. I want you to be my forever."

"I think I can handle that." He smiled, pulling the dark head of his lover back to his breast.

 

 

Finis.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Business of Love (Hardest Workin' Cupid in Showbiz Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/420431) by [elistaire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elistaire/pseuds/elistaire)




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